More than This

More than This

by Damocles23

Chapter 4: My Happiest Time

“Are you sure you can still keep this up, sweetie? Aren’t you tired?” The old, thin stallion gives a weary smile to the young mare behind him, who is pushing the wheelchair.

“I’m alright, Daddy. Just enjoy the little stroll. I won’t be here forever to carry you around, you know; you have to feel better already” she says, stopping for a second to give him an affectionate peck on the back of his head.

He chuckles. “You’re right, Tiara. There’s still some strength in these legs, after all.” He tries to lift himself, but a loud crack is heard as soon as he puts some weight on his forelegs, causing him to fall loudly back into the seat.

“Maybe later,” he grunts, rubbing his sore rump. His daughter stifles a little laugh, thinking he doesn’t notice.

They continue past golden fields in silence, but the creaking of the rusted wheels swallows the wind whistling in the grass and shaking leaves of the apple orchards. The wheelchair stumbles and trudges over uneven terrain, falling into a familiar rhythm. Sometimes he closes his eyes to rest a few minutes, or sleep, or take inspiration from the scent of fresh grass that reside in the tree’s shadow. Tiara doesn’t dare start even the simplest of conversations, not because of fear, but because she had never seen her father so peaceful and relaxed.

He was now closer than ever to actual progress on his recovery. Well, at least the closest since she left, never forget that. It’s her fault: not Tiara’s, not Daddy’s, not even any of the former blank flanks can be held responsible.

Hers and nopony else.

They will have all the time in the world to talk when they return home.

All the time in the world.

A loud thunk is heard in the distance and the sound of several things dropping in a basket. The sounds sharpen as they draw closer, and the huffs of a panting pony echoes across the trees.

Thunk, drop, repeat: always the same routine. She isn’t bothered anymore by it; if Daddy is happy, then she is. No question asked.

“Let’s stop here for a while, Tiara”, he says.

His daughter complies with hardly a word.

The stallion looks at the setting sun while she sits by his side on the grass. The dirt doesn’t bother her; he has the chance to pat her head if she is sitting. At least it isn’t mud. For some reason, mud makes her shudder; she wasn’t particularly crazy about it before, but now...it terrifies her, like the wet terrain is some sort of ominous sign.

Tiara takes a fleeting look at her father and sees him smile, and she can’t help but return the joy.

She had almost forgotten what his smiles looked like; any and all the dirt in the world is worth this moment. He proceeds to caress her mane while the thunk in the background falls into silence, before speaking:

“You know, Tiara...”

“Yes, Daddy?” A full-toothed grin follows, expecting some good news.

“I am feeling better. I really do.”

“That’s wonderful! It shows, you know; you’ve got a lot more color on your face. But why here of all places?”

“I told you already, Tiara. I needed some rest, some time by myself to think and be away from that place...” She turns toward him and catches a shadow of sadness that cloaks his eyes as he speaks.

“But why here, of all places? It’s not that far away from Ponyville, after all.”

“You just said it: not that far away. I can’t travel far. I needed a familiar place, a peaceful place.”

“You haven’t answered my first question, you know.”

“You’re right. I didn’t,” he replies with a smug grin. She has taken a lot after him, of course; she recognizes the same smirk she loves doting on others. Yet it’s not nearly as satisfying when that same grin is flashed onto her. It doesn’t matter; she would accept everything from him, even a taste of her own medicine. She would follow him anywhere, even to Tartarus itself if it would help him.

Tiara’s father knows this. “I hope you understand. But...”

“I knew there was going to be a ‘but,’” she says, rolling her eyes.

“I want to stay here for a little more. You know, I’m not yet ready to go back into that house. I hope you can understand.” He seemed sad for a moment. He always looks sad when he says that; it’s the third or fourth time already.

“Of course, Dad. We’ll take all the time that you need. It’s not like we’re in a hurry; that’s the last thing you need right now.” She lifts herself and strokes his cheek. He lets out a relaxed chuckle that sadly, morphs into yet another grimace.

“I’m afraid that once we go back...” a tear rolls down his cheek, “I’ll find her scent still lingers on the bed. She had such a nice scent.”

Tiara’s eyes gleam of disgust. “Don’t talk about her.” Anger contorts her gentle features as she stops his mouth with a hoof, “Remember what we said: we don’t talk about her.”

“Tiara, she’s still your mother and...”

“Oh, really?” She cocks an eyebrow. ”Then where is she? Tell me. What has she ever done to be a mother? Or a wife for that matter? Do you think I wasn’t there throughout all those years of indifference? Of mockery? Have you forgotten what she did to you? To us?”

The memories fuel her rage. They don’t appear as clear images in the back of her mind, or even voices for that matter: just a feeling like a stab in the gut along with the knowledge that she has been completely and utterly wronged. No amount of wounded nerves could do justice for something like that.

Only ideas. Ideas that her father knows all too well, causing him to look away and gaze sadly at the ground.

“Sweetie...” He reaches for her, but she turns away, pacing back and forth as she rants.

“She threw us away, dad! Why should I forgive her for that? Heck, he threw you away! How can you be so calm?” She dashes again to his side but dares not look in his eyes. Her tongue is loosened by hateful words that she believes like a foal to be the absolute truth.

“I’m not asking you to forgive her. I can’t ask you that much. But at least, you shouldn’t blame her so much.”

“You talk about her like she had a choice...” She already knows the look in his face, but she hasn’t the will to face it. It’s happened too many times, whenever they’re talking about her. “Haven’t you heard the rumors?”

“You know I never gave much importance to slander.”

“Well I did, Dad!” she turns with a sharp movement toward him, “I wish I hadn’t but I did. You know what they called you? Those awful ways they called you?”

“Why are you bringing this up?” he asks, his voice cracking just slightly.

Tiara spurs on; it’s like her heart is gripped by a cold claw, but she has to do it. She has to make him understand, even if she has to be a monster to do it. It can’t go on ignored.

“After all you’ve done, all you’ve achieved...everything doesn’t matter because one day a mare, that mare, wakes up and decided all of a sudden she’s a fillyfo...”

“ENOUGH!” he roars, tears cascading from his bloodshot eyes, “Don’t you think I know that? You are the one hurting me now, not your mother!”

That look. That exasperated look: it pierces her soul and melts all of her self-justifying defences like snow. When he looks at her like that she’s a little filly again. A little filly who wouldn’t even dare to talk back to him. One who shouldn’t.

How could she? He just answered bitter truth with bitter truth.

“I guess you won, for now. We’ll never talk about her again if it makes you happy. Everything to make you happy...”

“Daddy!” She throws herself at his forelegs and into a tight, desperate embrace. Her father clings at his daughter’s hoof as if he were suspended above a ravine. A ravine that threatens to swallow him every hour of each day and that mare, that confused, desperate mare is the only thing that keeps him tethered. ”I’m sorry...I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

“I think you know. You know it very well.” A small laugh is muffled by his shoulder. Now she knows he’s better: his wit it’s still there. The best Daddy in the world still gives her smiles she doesn’t deserve. “It’s hard for us. But we’ll make this trough.”

“If you say it, I know it’s true.” The seeds of honesty lie in her words. She would never give him less than that. She basks in that hug without a care in the world.

“Huh...Is this a good moment?” drawls a voice behind them. A female voice to be precise, with a thick accent.

“No, it’s the worst possible moment, actually. Come back in a few minutes. Or possibly never.” Still gripping her father, she again slips on her mask of scathing humor and bitterness, like nothing had happened and her world is still perfect.

“Don’t worry, Miss Applejack. It’s always the right moment for you, no matter what my daughter says.”

“Aaawww! Thanks for belittling me, dad. I always need it.”

“Somepony has to do it,” he smirks. The only one who can see through that mask and always will.

“Always ta feisty one, aren’t you, Diamond Tiara?” The mare steps forward and pats her head with an affectionate smile. She’s still surprisingly youthful for a grown mare; her visage is still adorned with a faint trail of freckles. “Ah jus’ finished working for today an’ I heard ya’ll were passing by. Hope everything’s alright.”

“We are fine, thank you. Just a little father-daughter moment, nothing to worry about, really. You’ve already been so kind to us.”

“Ya have nothing to thank me about, Mr. Rich.“

A smile lights his face. Finally somepony that always remembers that he doesn’t like his first name. Tiara, too, has come to hate the way it sounds. She has never called him in any other way.

“Besides ya asked so little from us: jus’ a few weeks of sun and fresh air to help ya get in a better shape. It’s nothin’ really.” She waves a hoof dismissively.

Tiara snorts and grudgingly gives her a nod of thanks. Even though she’ll never fully like those hicks, her father is smiling again. That’ll do.

“B’sides, ah think mah Granny would’ve done the same for ya.”

Once again gloom rears its ugly head on this evening. As much as Tiara would prefer to not see him tormented by the same things, she can’t control his heart.

“We are all missing somepony. It can’t be as much as you do, of course, but I miss her too.”

“She always held ya in high regard. Always.”

Somepony who isn’t here that we have a good memory of, for a change, Tiara thinks. “Well, I don’t think she would be happy at seeing us all down just by thinking about her, right?”, she puts on one goofy, awkward that would make Pinkie wince. It isn’t much, but she has to do something to lighten up the moment. Her attempt is successful though, much to her surprise.

“Well said, Tiara. Well said...” he pats her head.

About time. It means so little for him, but for her, the few well placed words mean everything.

“Surprised it came from ya...” Applejack says smugly, with just a hint of a devilish snicker.

Tiara answers by sticking her tongue at her. Why is it always sarcasm that runs in this family?

Tiara’s father clears his throat. “You know...You have done enough for me today, sweetie. Miss Applejack can take care of me, at least for a while. If she hasn’t anything against it, of course...”

“It would be mah pleasure, Mr. Rich.”

“Are you sure, Daddy? Aren’t you tired? Do you need something else? Water? Food? A book? A giant trampuline?” She leans closer and closer to him, letting her tongue run wild as she crushes the poor stallion under her demanding and scintillating eyes.

The older stallion almost flattens against his seat. “I’m fine like this, thank you,” he says, eyes open wide and voice squeaking out in small whimpers. “Have some fun, Tiara.”

“Fine, I will.” She turns and trots away, “But I’ll be passing by to give you your goodnight kiss, don’t forget it!” After a few meters she turns toward him again. “And a good night story if you want.”

“Thank you, Tiara. Now go on and have your fun,” he says as Applejack turns his chair toward the horizon and stands beside him.

Tiara throws several looks over her shoulder the farther she goes, catching her father happily chatting with the orange mare and admiring the sunset. He looks so peaceful, so serene by that orange mare...she never saw that look on his face anymore, except when he’s talking and laughing with her, courteous even in such a weak state. She knows that look, though: she’s not that naive to don’t understand what a stallion means by that look or with such a wide smile. There were many occasions in which he would send her away with a reassuring smile, just to spend a few more minutes with the farmer.

It’s understandable, most understandable. He’s been so lonely, so disappointed in his later years and the wounds on his body and his heart are just starting to heal. He’s an adult, so he has the right to rebuild his life and being interested and susceptible to the charm of a mare in her prime is a sign of good health.

What does he sees in her?

He could have anypony he wants, after all. Leaving aside the fact that she’s too rural for a stallion of his position, it’s not like she reciprocates that obvious affection. It can be read in her awkward pauses and forced smiles. Flattery is wasted on someponies. Or maybe she’s just thick.

Her loss, she says between herself, focusing once again on the dirt gravel beneath her hooves.

The road to her destination is long, and the sun is already sinking into the hills.

One of the things she has to admire about Sweet Apple Acres is its quietness. The noise from the town is too far away to be a hindrance and not many ponies live on the farm. Not even Tiara and her father’s temporary stay shatters the peace in their surroundings. It’s just what they need, after all: silence. Quiet, tranquility and privacy.

The sun has set and her father should be in bed soon, and she seeks a few minutes for herself now to rest her sore hooves. Spending most of the day pushing him around takes its toll on her, no matter how necessary and pleasant it is. She stumbles in the dark hallway for a while and blindly searches for her room. It’s not the best room in the world, but...

…

Finally a door knob is met by one of her flaying hooves. The moment she opens the door she’s welcomed by a voice. A warm voice coated with a familiar accent and uneven syntax.

“Ta day o’ reckoning? Ah don’t know what that means but ah’m sure it’s not nice!” A mare of her age with a coat of brilliant yellow lies on the bed, her face concealed by a familiar book.

It’s her diary.

Tiara’s eyes shoot her a murderous gaze: “What are you doing here?”

“Wel’, it is mah room...” she says, still behind the diary.

“What are you talking about? Of course it is my...” she takes a look around, dumbfounded. With extreme regret she has to admit that she’s right. Not that somepony could blame her: their rooms are so close and so alike. “Alright, It is your room, but it is my diary you’re reading! Where did you find that?” she enters and slams the door behind her with a hind leg.

“Ya left it here las’ night. Don’t you remember?” She finally removes it from her face. She’s wearing her mane loosely, instead of the usual bow. That red mess is a real eyesore: so bright and undignified...

“Well, of course I forgot,” she rolls her eyes, “I was probably distracted filling in the missing letters in that travesty you dare call speech.”

“What’s wrong with mah speech?”

“My. Not to mention that fat, blank flank you have there. That probably stole my attention as well. Seriously, you can’t look away from that thing.”

“Now ya’re jus’ doing ‘t on purpose.” She lifts herself from the bed and raises her flank in Tiara’s full view, wiggling it around. She shows off a beautiful zap apple-shaped cutie mark. It’s six colors clash with the beige tone of her fur. Her plump and round flank has just a sliver of fat in excess, but compared to Tiara’s leaner and tapered figure it’s always too much. “Ya see? Cutie Mar’k!”

“You could have painted it on your fur.”

“Come on, that’s ridiculous. I’ve had it for years! Ya’ve written about it.”

“It could just be an elaborate lie, perpetrated trough the years. There’s only one way to find out the truth.” She wears a crazed grin. Her eyes gleam of a disturbed light as Tiara gets closer to a very perplexed young mare.

“Ummm...? Diamond Tiara?””

She crouches toward the colorful symbol and, without warning, draws out her tongue and gives it a long lick, causing Applebloom to jump away from Tiara.”Yeeouch! Are ya out of yar min’?

“Yeah, it’s real,” she says after licking her lips. “It has your taste.”

“Well, ya should know by know...” Applebloom circles her forelegs around Tiara’s neck and pulls her onto the bed, making her fall on top of Applebloom. She gives the pleasantly surprised mare a quick peck on her nose.

Tiara beams at her with a complacent grin: “Don’t think you’re getting away with reading my diary.”

“Ah never intended to...” The two mares join an passionate embrace, and their lips waltz into each other. It lasts only for a brief moment, but it had more meaning than it had any right to; the kiss is beautiful in its simplicity.

At first, it never seemed like things would change. Applebloom would forever remain a blank-flank and Tiara would aspire to her possessions. Perhaps things shouldn't have changed, but the heart of a pony possesses the strongest magic of all: the power of change itself. The purest love can turn into fierce hate and the opposite is true. Nopony can seek shelter from its capricious whims, and the best they can hope for is to enjoy what little love they find.

Diamond Tiara never cared about this uncomfortable truth until she met her.

It’s like she had seen her for the first time, even if she had already shared a long history with her. That part of her life now seemed long and forgotten, inhabited by two ponies that had so few memories of each other (none of them very pleasant). They had been just one step above of being strangers.

The kiss breaks the moment Applebloom pulls Tiara close to her chest: “How’s your dad?”

“Better. My big mouth nevertheless.”

“At least you admit it.” She gives Tiara another kiss on the lips. Never before had apples tasted better than this; she hasn’t seen her eating much lately, though. A little chuckle escapes through their mouth.

“What’s so funny?” Applebloom asks, amused.

“I still have the taste of your blank flank in this big mouth of mine.”

“Ya’ll never stop me calling me that, righ’?”

“You can’t change old habits, can you? We can say you were a late bloomer! ”

Applebloom proceeds to swallow her attempt of a snarky answer with a kiss. Their little game starts: one sentence followed by one kiss, in that precise order. Perfect harmony, even when showing tender affection.

“...We talked about her again today.”

...

“Again? Geez...”

…

“I can’t help it, Bloom. I just can’t. It hurt him so much.”

…

“Ya have to move fo’wa’d. It’s jus’ not right. For both of ya.”

…

I know, Bloom. It’s just that I can’t.” She grasps Bloom’s withers and nuzzles her neck. Her voice reduces to just a whisper. “I don’t know what else I can do but state the obvious.”

“Ya still have him.” Applebloom deepens the hug. “Ya still have me. Isn’t it enough?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions. You know what you mean for me, Bloom.” Tiara lifts her head a bit and gives her another quick kiss, this time on the cheek.

Bloom chuckles. “Would ya have said the same things when we were still fillies?”

“Probably not. Or maybe I would have said that you meant something for me back then, too: a big pain in the flank! But what can I say? Ponies change. I changed.” She’s steady in her resolution as she says that. If it weren’t so, she wouldn’t hold that mare in her embrace. And, surely, she wouldn’t be so happy about it. “Also, eewww...Fillies shouldn’t do that so early.”

“Do what?”

“This...”

...

“Ya’ve changed fo’ the better. And I like your flank.” She pinches Tiara’s cutie mark, causing her to squeal in a high pitched moan. “It’s a cute flank.”

“What was that? What about my gorgeous rump? My good looking legs?” She lifts up a hind leg from beneath Bloom and wiggles it, carefully brushing it against her side. “There’s a quite cute mare attached to all that and don’t you forget it.”

“How could ah? In fact, let me check...” She covers Tiara’s cheeks and neck with a long string of butterfly kisses. But she doesn’t stop there; she runs the length of her forelegs and caresses her hooves with her lips; she dances across the pits of her legs and goes all the way down, tickling the surface of her belly and, of course, the tip of her tongue pokes at the fur over her Cutie Mark. She would never said it to her face, but she loves that Cutie Mark. Tiara worships that engraving as if it was her Queen.

Bloom’s kisses are like raindrops in spring: quick, fresh and pleasant.

She feels cleansed, purified by all the guilt and sadness that is consuming her family. Something pure and healing lies in that embrace, in the arms of the last pony she would’ve ever thought of, she finds peace. Not only because of the affection she feels for her, but because it’s turning over a new page.

A confirmation that she’s more than anything that mare ever said: she can change for the better. She can love and she can be happy.

That mare never told her this. Ever.

But as soon as her touch tries to get more intimate, in the same moment that Bloom decides that this is the moment to be together and feel as one, one last sliver of guilt reemerges in Tiara’s heart. Guilt that wasn’t fully washed away by that love. Bloom’s mouth is halted by Tiara’s hoof the moment it begins its descent towards her face.

“What’s wrong?”

“This. This is wrong.”

Tiara’s marefriend looks away from her, compassion and disappointment dwelling in her orange orbs.

“Oh, please, not you too! Don’t give me that.”

“Give ya what?”

“That. I hate that. You make me feel even worse.”

Bloom just slumps down on the bed beside Tiara and stares at the ceiling. “Ya know...” She grabs Tiara’s hoof with her own. “Ya don’t have ta live it like that.”

“I know that I shouldn’t. I’m scared, though. Like, a lot. Like, If i do it with you, I would hurt Dad.”

“Are ya scared of me? But ah just want to be with you!”

“Tell me about it. You’ve been telling me that ever since I got here.”

“Ya’ren’t complaining though.”

“Of course I can’t.” She grips Bloom’s hoof and brings it to her mouth to kiss it, “But I can’t do it...” she blushes fiercely. “...with you. Even if I want it so much.”

“Ya can tell me why, Tiara. Ya can tell me everything. It’s not just your dad, isn’ it?”

She turns to her side on the bed, unable to say an answer. The words once again fail her, and always with the ponies she cares about.

“Ya can’t stop thinking about your mother, right?

“She’s not my mother...” she grumbles, covering herself with the sheets. “She threw me out in this world, abandoned me and infected me with her presence, made me like her. That’s it. That’s all we have in common.”

“That wasn’t nice, ya know. Ya’ll sayin’ that ah’m infected too?”

“No, not you. It’s just who you are. Just me. She planned it. She wanted me to become like her, just to make Daddy suffer more.”

“If he finds out.”

“The Element of Honesty had a real influence in your life.” She gives Bloom a little nudge with her hind hoof. “A lie of omission is still a lie, you know. She must be proud.”

“Wel’, it’s not like we have other options. Also, don’t bring mah sister into this.”

We. Tiara loves it when she says that little word. It means being part of something more.

“I still think you should tell her. She’s not half as bad as I thought. But then, Daddy would know...I can’t let him know.”

“Well, it can always stay between us. Like it always has.” Tiara is gripped into a gentle hug from behind. Bloom’s head rests on her neck and starts nuzzling it. She feels so small compared to her, even thought she hasn’t seen many ponies lately. Still, her friend Silver Spoon has grown into a very tall mare and Applebloom, well, she still has the build of a farmer coming from a family of farmers. To think she looked had so small and cute as a filly; her embrace is both reassuring and intimidating, the strength in her forelegs could be seen as a protection and a threat.

“Or it could be something more, if you want,” Applebloom adds, planting a kiss on the back of her neck that makes Tiara shiver. Her body is tense like a piano chord, and Bloom’s touch does plays a symphony of shame with her nerves. She hates herself for this, but she is loved by somepony else.

Why should I be ashamed of being loved?

“Bloom, what do you see in me? I mean, why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you with me?”

“Because ah like ya. Isn’t that enough? Ah like the way you look, ah like the way you think, ah like the way you insult me.”

You’re weird. Like, a lot of weird. A continent of weird.”

“Ya see? But, ya know what? Ah’ll tell you everything...tonight...”

“Same place, same time, same mare?”

“Like you want to complain.”

Sliding out out of Bloom’s embrace, she jumps off the bed and struts toward the door. She suddenly stops to turn to the yellow mare. “...With your sister,” she snickers.

“What’s that supposed ta mean?” She stares at Tiara with one eye opened and the other closed, completely dumbfounded.

“Never mind, just giving air to my big mouth.” She opens the door, and catches with the corner of her eye Bloom sticking her tongue out at her. She muffles a laugh with a hoof before closing the door behind her. Tiara trots toward her father’s room just at the other side of the tenure. She'd like to be closer than that, to keep an eye on him better, but then he’d discover Bloom.

“Daddy, are you in there?” The door opens with a sinister creaking sound and the young mare stares into the darkness of an empty room. She takes a few steps in to let her eyes adjust to the dark and looks for her parent. “Daddy?”

“I told you that I would’ve done it later,” a voice almost whispers in the dark.

Tiara turns and squeezes her eyes to discern the figure of her father finally standing on all fours.

Everything is fine.